


don't let me down

by leifmotifff



Category: Batman Beyond
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Sibling Incest, this is apparently all i know how to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leifmotifff/pseuds/leifmotifff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's growing up and his hormones are all over the place - Terry's there to lend a helping hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't let me down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [garbagecollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagecollector/gifts).



> Every bit as sleazy as the summary makes it sound. Thanks @kimbles for the title (yes it's from that damn song BUT APPARENTLY IT FITS THE FIC OK)

It's a Wednesday evening when Terry returns a few days earlier than expected for summer break, large suitcase in tow, and it couldn't be more clear his mother is grateful to have him back.

“Your brother’s been out of school for a week and he’s been glued to that computer the entire time; he’s going to fry his brain,” she says, vexed, greeting him with a hug at the door. “Matt, your brother’s he—! Oh, Matty, you’re right there.” 

Matt appears from right behind his mother, having come into the living room to investigate.

“Yeah, now instead of playing harmless vid games, I’ll be able to see _first-hand_ all the wild college parties Terry’s going to throw when you and Aunt Liv are down at the shore,” Matt says, trying to sound acerbic and insufferable, but it’s hindered somewhat by the smile trying to break out on his impish face.

“Come here, twip,” Terry says, hooking an arm behind Matt’s head and reeling him in, threatening a noogie. “What do you know about college parties, huh?”

Matt laughs loudly and struggles to twist out of his brother’s grip. “Ah! Terry, cut it out! _Mom!”_  

His mother rolls her eyes. “On second thought, go back to your room, Matt. Leave your brother alone so he can unpack, and then maybe we can go out to dinner.” 

“Oh, _shway!_ De Lorenzo’s, De Lorenzo’s!” Matt cheers when Terry releases him.

“Matty, let your brother chose the restaurant,” his mother admonishes. “He hasn’t been home since New Year’s.”

Terry just laughs, picking up his bags to bring them into his bedroom. “It’s fine, we can go there,” he says, winking at Matt as he crosses the living room, and the younger boy flashes him a radiant, conspiratorial smile.

After dinner, the three of them return home, stuffed from the best family-owned pizza joint in the city, and no sooner do they step inside than Matt is already begging their mother to let them rent the latest summertime slasher. Despite a few objections about the violence she ultimately agrees, on the condition that he clean his room and get ready for bed beforehand.

“Turn it off if it gets too graphic,” she instructs Terry under her breath as Matt runs off, though Terry already knows that whatever they’re about to watch can’t be any worse than the horror flicks Matt’s probably already gotten his hands on one way or another.

Matt bounds into Terry’s room a few minutes later, grabs the remote and clicks through the menu screen to the on-demand selection. Terry half-pays attention to the ominous music and ear-splitting screams coming from his TV speakers while continuing to unpack, and it’s only belatedly that he notices Matt’s intermittent exclamations of _“aw, sick!”_ and _“cool!”_ had ceased about thirty minutes into the movie.

By the time Terry finishes putting his things away, Matt is already fast asleep under the covers. Terry switches the TV off and rubs his eyes, falling back onto his bed at last and allowing himself a long, languorous stretch. Nothing like coming home to your own bed after being away, he muses serenely. Terry considers carrying Matt back to his own room, but he's pretty exhausted after the multiple train rides back from the university, and he doesn’t put up much resistance when sleep peacefully overtakes him. 

The bright June sun streaming in through his open blinds is what wakes Terry the next morning, and he groans, sleepily covering his face with the crook of his arm. He curses himself for forgetting to close them last night, because there is no way he’s moving from this spot. He’s so cozy under the fluffy comforter, his mattress light-years more comfortable than the standard furnishings provided by university housing. And best of all is the small, warm body cuddled up next to him, one slender leg draped over his own, firm flesh pressing against his—

Terry’s eyes fly open in shock. _Is that…?_

Heart hammering in his chest, Terry shifts slightly, and promptly feels his face flame, because yeah, that’s definitely his baby brother’s morning wood digging into his hip. Terry bites his lip and holds his breath, desperate not to make a sound, and very carefully attempts to lift Matt’s knee and extract himself from the boy’s loose hold on him. 

It’s no use, though. Disturbed by the movement, Matt’s brow creases, a small frown forming on his face as consciousness fights its way from behind his eyelids. He blinks his eyes sluggishly against the light a few times, focusing slowly on Terry. 

Terry—who’s still too stunned to do anything other than stare at his little brother in unchecked alarm. He watches, paralyzed, as Matt registers what must be a strange look on his face, and it looks like it’s on the tip of Matt’s tongue to ask what’s wrong when abruptly his eyes widen and he sucks in a tiny breath, no doubt having realized—having felt— 

Matt jerks urgently away from him, scrambling to the edge of the mattress, eyes like saucers and his face turning such a dark shade of red that Terry would have laughed if the boy weren’t so visibly mortified. His little breaths come out fast and shallow, and Terry realizes somehow intuitively that it’s _his_ reaction Matt is afraid of. Disoriented, Terry reaches a helpless hand out and fumbles to say something reassuring, managing only a thin, “hey—it’s okay—” 

And crap, that was apparently the wrong thing to say, because as soon as the words are out, the corners of Matt’s eyes fill with hot, embarrassed tears, and Terry is entirely unprepared for this.

 _“I’m sorry!”_ Matt wails, looking terrified, clapping both hands over his mouth as if humiliated even by the sound of his voice. 

Seeing Matt so uncharacteristically vulnerable sets off odd sirens in Terry’s brain, and he immediately sits up in bed and reaches for him more decisively, the instinct to comfort his little brother overwhelming even as he himself is torn between discomfort and bewildered amusement. “Hey, hey! Matty, it’s okay! Don’t be upset,” he tries to say soothingly, pulling the boy close to him and wrapping an arm around his tense shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t—I haven’t—” Matt falters, wiping at his eyes as Terry runs a palliative hand up and down his upper arm.

“Shhh, it’s alright, it happens to everyone.” 

Matt sniffles, calming a bit when it becomes clear Terry’s not going to crucify him. “Not to me,” he eventually says stubbornly, shooting a betrayed look at Terry when he hears him try to stifle a chuckle. 

“Oh, come on,” Terry says breezily, trying for lightness. “You mean this is your first time waking up with a stiff one?”

Matt ducks his head. “It’s only happened a few times,” he mumbles, not meeting Terry’s eyes. “Last time I pretended to be sick, and Mom ended up late for work.”

Terry lets out an amused breath and Matt winces, chagrined. Terry squeezes his arm affectionately in response. “That’s nothing,” he assures him. “Man, when I was your age it used to happen all the time, and at the worst times too! In class, on the bus… wherever.”

Matt seems to consider this before tensing up again. He peeks up at Terry through his bangs, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “So you don’t think I’m—I’m—”

“Of course not,” Terry cuts in fiercely, surprising himself. He’s not exactly sure what he’s denying, but he does know he definitely doesn’t want to instill any weird feelings of guilt or shame in his little brother over a bodily reaction that’s perfectly healthy, and moreover, completely out of his control.

He regrets reacting so poorly earlier. It’s not that he was grossed out or disgusted—it’s just that it was so… unexpected. Though, he thinks wryly, he supposes no one is ever really prepared for their baby brother to start popping boners.

Terry hesitates a bit, then pulls the comforter off his lower body, determined to show the younger boy that there’s nothing wrong with him, and Matt’s eyes practically pop out of his head when he sees Terry’s own tented boxers.

“Look, see?” Terry says lightly, shrugging. “S’just part of being a guy.”

Matt stares unabashedly at Terry’s crotch, and Terry tries not to shrink away from the scrutiny. “Do you—do you get that every morning?”

“Not every morning, but a few times a week, for sure,” Terry says ruefully. “And you still get them randomly sometimes even when you’re older.”

_“Really?”_

Terry laughs at his brother’s astonishment. “Sure. It’s normal. Like, sometimes if you’re excited about something, or when you think about girls—or, you know, whoever.”

“So what do you do about it?” Matt asks after a while, looking cautiously back up at him, and Terry’s glad to see he seems to be returning to his usual self, if a little less brazen.

“Well, you can wait for it to go away on its own, or you can—uh, take care of it,” Terry says, none too delicately. 

Matt looks at Terry curiously. “Take care of it?”

Terry’s earlier discomposure starts to creep back into his shoulder blades, and he rubs the back of his neck. As much as he doesn’t want his brother to develop unhealthy attitudes towards his growing body, he's not sure he wants to be the one responsible for corrupting him either.

“I mean…” Terry can scarcely mask his ineptitude, having really no idea how aware his younger brother is about any of this. Isn’t this something they should be covering in school, or…?

At the notion of school Terry’s mind flickers back to a day in fifth grade, when his class had been split into two groups: the girls had stayed in their classroom with their female teachers, supposedly to watch a video on pads and tampons, while the boys were led to the gymnasium for a live demonstration of how to put a condom on a banana—the most memorable part of which being when Nelson stuck his hand into one as soon as their P.E. teacher’s back was turned, wriggling his fingers around inside the stretched latex and yelping in disgust when he realized the thing was lubricated, the roar of the other boys’ laughter merely getting louder when he was sent to the principal’s office for flipping another student off with the condom hand.

 _Oy._ No wonder Terry’s being called on to give this talk now, if state sanctioned sex ed is anything like how it was back when he was a kid. 

Matt is still looking at him expectantly, so Terry soldiers on, voice somewhat tight. “You’re telling me you’ve never… you know, touched yourself? There?”

Matt shakes his head no, and in that moment he looks so endearingly innocent, Terry almost wishes he could stay that way forever. But the kid’s probably still confused, and embarrassed, and who else can he really go to for this sort of thing? 

“Well,” he continues bravely, trying to ignore how strange it is to be talking to his brother about this. “Touching yourself when you get hard is one way to make it go away faster. It feels good, and it releases all the tension that’s built up down there. When you finish, your dick goes back to its normal size and gets soft again.” 

Matt looks skeptical. “Just from _touching_ it?” He drops a hand between his legs only to make a soft sound of surprise, pulling his hand quickly away again.

Terry chuckles. “Don’t worry, once you actually start doing it you’ll develop more of a—ah, technique, that works for you.”

“Oh.” Matt chews his lip for a beat, pensive. “Can you show me?” 

A short, nervous laugh escapes Terry’s lips. “Show you?” 

Matt nods carefully, color returning to his cheeks. Even with Matt’s proclivity for pulling one over on his older brother whenever he has the chance, Terry has a sinking feeling that’s not what’s going on this time. 

But still, he can’t be serious. The very idea goes against every instinct Terry has from years of endeavoring not to get caught jerking it in his bedroom by his family.

Now that he’s thinking about it though… he wouldn’t mind a little stress relief. His own erection isn’t showing any signs of flagging—if anything, their little talk seems to have kept it perked up and interested. And it has been a while since Terry’s indulged in any self-gratification, what with exams and papers and projects the past couple weeks—even longer since he’s actually gotten any. Other than a few drunken fumblings with co-eds at frat parties, college hadn’t exactly proven to be the haven of sexual opportunity he’d been led to believe it was.

Jesus, though, was he really that pent up that he was considering this? Terry never imagined he’d be the sort to jack it in front of anyone else, let alone his little brother. But he supposes if it’s for, uh, informational purposes… Terry nearly scoffs at his own roundabout attempt at justification, when in the back of his mind he knows he’s already agreed to this—had, as soon as Matt had laid those big round eyes on him and asked.

This is crazy, Terry thinks, even as he shifts and spreads his legs slightly, mouth going dry with apprehension. He kicks the covers off his legs completely, tuning out a few more token protests from what are perhaps the more rational voices in his head (voices that are decidedly less moved by the prospect of getting off).

Terry’s hard-on grows just from that, the anticipation. He swallows, takes a deep breath through his nose before glancing back at Matt. “I guess I could, try to show you what I do,” he says uncertainly.

Matt just nods again, biting his lip when Terry moves a hand to cup himself through his boxers. He groans at the feel of his warm fingers through the thin cloth, and Matt startles a little at the sound.

“It’s okay,” Terry murmurs, relief from that gentle pressure already chasing away his remaining uneasiness. “It feels good.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and lifts his hips to drag them down and off, his erection springing up to strain against his stomach.

He hears Matt suck in a breath, and looks over again to see his brother staring wide-eyed at his cock. “It’s so big,” Matt whispers in unconcealed awe, and despite knowing it’s a child making that observation, Terry can hardly quell the foolish male swell of pride that comes from hearing it.

Encouraged, Terry leans his back against the wall and wraps his hand around the base. He gives it a light squeeze, pulling upwards in a nice, slow tug, and shit, it really has been too long because that alone makes a needy moan rise in his throat. He breathes deep again and starts to build a rhythm of long, easy strokes.

 _Better to start slow, for the sake of instruction_ , his brain supplies somewhat deliriously, and Terry squeezes his eyes shut and leans his head back. He can feel pre-come pearling at the tip of his cock, and he swipes his thumb across the head, drags the clear liquid down the shaft, making his movements slipperier, more lewd.

Terry chances a glance back down at Matt. He’s watching Terry with rapt fascination, hands flexing and unflexing against his small thighs, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. Terry’s cock throbs, his face heating. He can’t help it; the unbridled attention is a turn-on. He unconsciously spreads his thighs a little wider, struggling with the effort not to thrust up into his hand.

“It—it looks like it hurts,” he hears Matt say, and Terry looks hazily back down at him. His chest swells when he sees Matt looking up at him with concern, his cheeks pink, and it’s so sweet and guileless Terry has to actively suppress the urge to reach out to him.

“Don’t worry,” Terry grinds out, starting to stroke a bit faster. “It’s good. Really good— _ah!_ ” He can’t resist bucking his hips now, bracing his free hand against the mattress, his rhythm getting sloppier. Matt actually leans in closer, ostensibly to get a better look, and Terry has to shut his eyes against the image—to make this less weird, obviously, not because—because—

Terry bites his lip hard, thoughts flying frantically to his past couple hookups, to that dreamy, flighty girl Melanie from back in high school, his hot cultural studies professor at the university, _any_ where else, and he’s close _._ The mattress tremors slightly as Matt shifts his weight to remove his own shorts, and Terry can see his brother in his peripheral vision, pressing a shaking hand between his legs, hears his soft whimper from _right_ next to him, and—

Terry’s legs go tense and straight out in front of him and his back arches, stars exploding behind his eyelids, his fingers trembling as he continues to stroke unevenly, warm, satiny come spurting in streaks onto his hand. He slumps back against the wall, slowing his fist as those last blissful spasms course through him. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes opening lazily to peer at his dirty work, and Jesus, there are splashes of come on his t-shirt and thighs, too. Still panting, he turns his head to look over at Matt. 

His heart jumps when he sees his brother watching him—not like, out of the corner of his eye, to compare Terry’s dick-jerking methods to his own, but _gazing_ up at him as if in a trance, his mouth slack, an unreadable expression on his face. Ignoring the way his gut twists, Terry coughs quietly, and at the sound Matt seems to remember himself, tearing his eyes away to direct his attention back to his own lap, where he’s cupping his erection loosely with one hand, covering it more than trying to relieve it.

“Try gripping a little tighter,” Terry suggests automatically, surprised at how throaty he sounds. “When you move your fist up and down, the skin should slide with it. It’s the pressure that feels good,” he explains, trying to keep his comments as clinical as possible now that it’s Matt’s very adolescent cock they’re talking about.

Matt does as he’s told, fingers flexing before he grips himself firmly, giving his cock another experimental pull. His eyes fall shut, and his face pinches in concentration, his shy hands struggling to find a rhythm as he lets out these tiny little sighs and whimpers.

Terry realizes he’s the one staring now and looks away, feeling supremely creepy. He distracts himself instead with the task of cleaning himself up, reaching for the tissues on his bedside table, and he’s only just finished crudely wiping down the front of his shirt when he hears Matt make a frustrated little sound next to him.

“I can’t—it’s not working,” he complains, and Terry glances over to see Matt with his legs spread, one folded at the knee and the other extended, and an uncomfortable heat rises under his skin at the sight of his little brother so exposed. Matt gives his cock another couple pulls, a pitiful whine in his throat, before finally looking up at him through his lashes.

Terry’s breath fucking catches. A dark blush stains Matt’s cheeks, his eyes wet, and he looks so painfully confused and _aroused_ , and Terry is not at all equipped for the words that leave his brother’s mouth next. 

“C-can you help me, Terry?” 

Terry’s pulse jumps, heartbeat thundering in his ears. He swallows thickly. “H-help, you mean…”

Matt bites his bottom lip and leans back a little, supporting himself with an elbow. The hand on his cock stills and he lets go of it with a sigh, resting his palm on his pale inner-thigh. “Please,” Matt pants, eyes half-lidded as he looks up at him. “I can’t get it right.”

Terry feels light-headed, sweat beginning to form on his forehead. Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of this entire exercise if Terry’s just going to get Matt off _for_ him, some rational part of his brain points out hysterically. And that’s fair point, but...

Matt’s eyes shine up at him, and god, he’s so open, and vulnerable, and _trusting_ , and—and how can Terry possibly say no to his little brother when he’s asking him like _that?_

Terry takes a steadying breath. “Fine. But you’re going to have to learn to do this on your own, so pay attention,” he says, voice huskier than he would like.                                     

Matt just shivers at the stern tone and nods, and _fuck_ if that doesn’t send blood rushing back down to Terry’s already spent cock.

Matt leans back further on his elbows, chest rising and falling rapidly as Terry leans over him. Terry feels a frisson of guilty heat shoot through him as he realizes he’s about to touch his brother with the hand that was just covered in his own come, but when he sees the way Matt’s thighs twitch and his cock _leaks_ in anticipation of Terry’s fingers, his mind pretty much short circuits.

Unthinking, he closes his palm gently around his brother’s cock, and Matt jerks, making a strangled noise when Terry gives it a soft squeeze.

“Okay?” Terry whispers.

Matt nods vigorously, letting his head fall back, his throat flushed and on display. Terry swallows again, _not_ thinking about how far down beneath Matt’s t-shirt that pink tinge might go, and brings his attention back to his current task. Terry’s hand is almost big enough to hide Matt’s hard-on completely in his fist, the head peeking out above his curled fingers. It's perverse, he thinks distantly, but somehow that’s not enough to stop him from tightening his grip and sliding his hand down to the base and back up.

A shocked moan rips out of Matt, completely uninhibited, his eyes flying open as one of his arms gives out behind him, and Christ, Terry’s half-hard again. Matt’s gasping, and Terry can feel the boy’s entire body practically vibrating, his hips and legs trembling with energy, obviously wanting to move but not knowing exactly how. Terry gives him another pump, coaxing a sweet, helpless noise out of him, and Matt’s hand shoots up to clutch at Terry’s forearm.

“Terry,” he says, his voice reedy yet somehow thick with arousal at the same time. “Stop, I’m—I’m going to—”

Terry can’t help his low chuckle at the boy’s panic. “That’s the point, remember?” He reminds him gently, and Matt squirms, biting his lip hard again. Terry loosens his grip though, because no way is he going to keep touching his brother if he’s being asked to stop, but just as soon as he thinks it, Terry feels Matt moving hesitantly under him, hips pushing up into his hand, chasing the pressure of his fingers around him. Terry obliges, sliding his fist up his brother’s cock, smearing the pre-come around, keeping his strokes slow and smooth for him, only very incrementally increasing their speed. 

“Like that,” Terry breathes, and Matt shudders, eyes shut tight, his whole body quivering responsively with each stroke, breathy sighs growing shorter, and it’s not long until he’s grasping Terry’s arm _hard_ , eyes jolting open as his hips stutter and spasm.

 _“Terry_ —I’m— _ah-h,_ ” Matt moans brokenly, and his whole body goes taut, arching backwards, eyes screwed shut as his young face contorts into that familiar look of pleasure-pain. He goes shock-still, whitish-clear liquid bursting from the tip of his cock onto Terry’s fingers and his own flat stomach, just barely missing his rucked up sleep shirt.

Matt falls back heavily against the mattress, breath coming in ragged pants, and Terry strokes him gently through his release, eyes drawn the to the way his chest expands with each breath, his bitten-raw lips. He eventually lets go of Matt’s softening cock, pushing his fingers lightly through the mess on his stomach. 

“Wow,” Terry utters softly, without meaning to.

“Mmm? What is it?” Matt slurs, sliding his eyes open indolently. The dusky gaze he fixes Terry with is almost reverent. 

“Nothing, I was just surprised,” Terry says reflectively. “The first few times I jerked off I didn’t actually shoot—I mean, there wasn’t any spunk.”

Matt's expression changes to one of alarm. “You didn’t? Is it not supposed to do that??”

Terry laughs. “No! Calm down, you’re fine. It just means that you’ll have to deal with more cleanup than I did,” he says teasingly, ruffling Matt’s hair with his clean hand before tossing the box of tissues at him. “Speaking of which…” Terry glances up at the clock, throwing his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. “I’m gonna hit the shower.” 

“Terry, wait—”

Matt sits up and grabs Terry’s hand, sticky come and all, doesn’t even bat an eyelash.

Terry looks from their hands back to Matt’s face. “What is it?”

Matt suddenly turns shy. “Nothing, just… thank you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers between Terry’s.

The action is so strangely deferential, and once more Terry is struck by how ingenuous Matt is with him, despite his constant lip. Terry’s chest gets tight again, and he doesn’t resist the urge to brush Matt’s bangs away from his face with his free hand.

Matt sighs at the tenderness of the gesture, leaning into the contact, his eyes fluttering shut, and Terry feels that twist in his gut again, pulls both hands away clumsily and steps back.

“No sweat,” he says easily, trying to disguise his unexpected awkwardness. He averts his eyes though, forcing a brief smile before heading into the bathroom to start the shower.

Once the door is closed, Matt stretches out in the bed again, boneless. He presses his face into one of the pillows, inhaling the scent of his brother’s sheets.

It had been so hard not to blow his load before Terry had even laid a finger on him. Matt had tried purposely to make his strokes leaden and uncomfortable, but he was already ready to burst just from seeing his older brother naked. He still can’t believe he didn’t come immediately after that first, torturous touch. Matt licks his lips, feels himself getting hard again just thinking about it.

He slides a practiced hand down to grasp his cock, already slick and slippery—just the way he likes it—and coaxes it to stiffness again. He probably has about fifteen minutes before Terry’s done in there, he thinks, closing his eyes.

He visualizes Terry’s strong body arcing, his flushed face when he came, and hums contentedly.

What his brother doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

_-fin-_


End file.
